


Giving Hands

by asoryuun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), sylvain falls deep: another fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27961244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asoryuun/pseuds/asoryuun
Summary: Sylvain enlists Dedue's help in inspiring Dimitri to act on his feelings for Claude. It goes as well as one would expect.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 10
Kudos: 99





	Giving Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I started this allll the way in March but here it finally is. Maybe fake dating isn't the best for oneshots (which is probably why this turned into my longest one ever) but I hope it's enjoyable all the same.
> 
> Big shoutout to bushra who did writing sprints with me and rly helped me progress as well as mari for all her love and support! love you guys 
> 
> thank you also to anyone for reading! syldue nation rise (and dmcl, who go on double dates with them without realizing they're double dates)

“You like Claude, don’t you, Your Highness?”

Dimitri nearly drops the trunk he was carrying, despite lifting it without a sweat earlier. His steps are slower now, as if trying not to give anything else away, but it only does the opposite. Still, he manages to put the box in its intended place for Sylvain to open it and organize the materials inside along with him.

They work in silence near Sylvain’s bed, until Dimitri speaks again.

“I-I don’t _like…_ Claude...any more than anyone else.” Dimitri has always been such a terrible liar. Even without his stuttering, he can’t hide the red in his face if he wanted to. “It’s just that I have certain thoughts when I see him…”

“Oh? You can’t just say that and expect me not to ask, especially after we went to pick up girls and they didn’t seem to have this sort of effect on you. And yet you mentioned his name twice before while you were here, when I asked how _you’re_ doing. So he’s exceptional to you, huh? Tell me your deepest, darkest fantasies.”

Sylvain actually has to dodge when Dimitri reaches out to push him away, not wanting to be thrown into the wall again.

“They’re not dark…” Dimitri mutters. “Not all of them, anyway.” Now _that_ is juicy, but Sylvain would have to take this one thing at a time if he really wanted to know it all. And not get thrown. For now, he’ll pretend Dimitri had added that part as quietly as he thinks he did.

“All right, so tell me what’s on your mind the most when you look at him.”

Dimitri has to think for a moment, or two. Like he has so many possible thoughts about Claude it wouldn’t just do to speak it out into the world in something as trite as words. At least that’s what Sylvain assumes, because he’s never really experienced that himself.

“Well, I had lunch with him and the professor just the other day. He really seemed to enjoy the food. Or that food, I suppose.” Tiny as it is, the smile on Dimitri’s face at the memory is also hard to miss.

Sylvain listens without a word, his silence doing the prodding. Dimitri seems to be entering some kind of zone of his own as he continues.

“It’s just, sometimes he would lean to my side, and I would think…” Dimitri actually twiddles his thumbs, his gauntlets clicking in turn as he let the repressed rest of his thoughts out in a single breath. “…if-he-took-some-of-my-food-I-would-only-be-honored.”

How _scandalous._

“Okay, so you don’t like Claude. You just have it extremely bad for him.”

Dimitri sputters. “I... perhaps.”

“Absolutely.” Before Dimitri can bluster out a comeback, Sylvain asks, “Is this why you came to my room today? We’re right next to each other, but you’ve never given yourself much time to visit before. I do appreciate you offering—or insisting, I guess would be the better word—to help me things around in here, but now I feel tricked.” He keeps his voice light, to try and assure Dimitri that he’s only teasing. “The prince, coming to me with an ulterior motive! Our golden tactician may have rubbed off on you.”

Dimitri looks away. “I just thought you might have some insight,” he says primly, or as primly as he can with his cheeks blazing again.

“Hey, _I’m_ just saying it’s the tiniest bit strange coming from the same guy who wanted me to rein myself in.” He’s still grinning.

“Haven’t you, though? You and Dedue…”

He stops grinning. “Me and Dedue,” he repeats blankly, because he _had_ just seen Dedue last night as he showed him the proper way of cooking Duscur bear (and it turned out _deliciously_ thanks to the spices he’d only heard about before), but he isn’t quite making the connection from whatever Dimitri’s implying. 

“Yes…” Dimitri sounds less certain now. “You two just seemed awfully close lately, in the kitchens and on the battlefield. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’ve also never seen Dedue so relaxed around someone else before, or even trying to joke. So I will admit I may have assumed…” The prince eyes him now. “Was I wrong?”

Sylvain is nothing if not someone who knows how to put up a front, relaxing into his best smile once more. “No, you’re not. I was just surprised because you’re the first one who’s actually brought it up, and to me rather than Dedue.”

“It just felt like I would be overstepping on Dedue’s privacy, but you’re never really known for keeping your… _dalliances_ a secret.”

“Oh, how flattering.”

Dimitri rolls his eyes, an unusually childish gesture for him. “So then…it’s true?”

Sylvain weighs his options. From Dimitri’s earlier words, it seems he came to him specifically because he thought he was in a relationship with Dedue, someone Dimitri trusted wholeheartedly. If he went along with this, he could get Dimitri out of his comfort zone and possibly into Claude’s. Give the prince a helping hand that nudges when it needs to. 

And Dedue is…understanding. Kinder than many assume. Not shallow. Probably the opposite of some of people he usually engages with. He also isn’t unattractive. Sylvain would be lying if he said the thought that Dedue was handsome never crossed his mind, especially in the few times he _did_ notice him smile.

Right, Dimitri has just asked him a question.

Sylvain already feels like he’s in too deep into all of this, so, “Yes.” 

“I see,” Dimitri says, smiling now as well. “I’m so happy for you two. Take care of him, all right?”

And could he really say no to that face?

He has some explaining to do to Dedue, that’s for sure.

* * *

“I see,” is all Dedue says at first, sorting through the seeds he was about to plant.

“Do you?” Sylvain asks, not so much out of doubt in Dedue as it is for his ability to persuade. He can’t imagine Dedue would be willing to get roped into something like this without more to the story.

Dedue tips his head. “You want us to act as if we’re in a relationship, because His Highness got the impression we are. I imagine this is your plan to help him out, in your own…unique way.” 

“…You never miss, Dedue,” Sylvain has recognized the methodical way Dedue plants now. Seeds that needed more sunlight, seeds that shied away from it, seeds that were the pickiest about their soil and seeds that delighted in any spot; all placed with great care.

“On the contrary.” Was that a smile peeking out? Was it getting a little warmer in here? “I had missed that enemy on our last battle and never would have felled them if you weren’t assigned my adjutant. Consider this my repayment.”

“Come on now, Dedue, that can’t be your only reason. Most others would do the same! Isn’t there something else you want for me dragging you into this?” The truth of the world is that anyone and everyone was in it for themselves.

“I simply want to help His Highness out as well. Claude is a mysterious figure, for sure. But I don’t sense any true malice coming from him, and most importantly, he seems to make His Highness so happy.”

Sylvain grins, retrieving the garden hose from its usual spot and tossing it to Dedue. “Caught on before any of us might have, did you?”

“Well,” Dedue concedes, “It was hard not to notice. But I didn’t want to point it out and risk embarrassing him.”

“I really doubt he has it in him to feel embarrassed at this point. He’s incredibly whipped. And a little oblivious to just _how_ whipped he is.” 

Sylvain’s voice is light and easygoing, but he really is relieved Dedue seems to be taking this well enough. There were two people he felt it was especially heinous to make truly mad: Mercedes and Dedue. He still didn’t quite figure out what he would have done had this conversation gone south, and he had ruined this friendship by forcing it into a full-on (even if fake) relationship. 

Not like any of his recent relationships had him involved deeper feelings on either party and didn’t feel fake in their own right. This was different, for reasons he couldn’t completely place yet.

“Do you relate, Sylvain? Has someone made your heart bloom the same way?”

Sylvain put a hand on his heart dramatically, tapping his head at the same time. “How poetic of you. The rose is eternal as long as it doesn’t bud, right?”

“I wonder.”

“Dedue!” Sylvain lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You _wound_ me.”

Dedue can’t hide his smile this time, which is already an achievement on its own. But he takes it a step further and actually laughs over the sound of running water.

Sylvain still hears the water. He wonders why he doesn’t also still hear Dedue laughing until there’s a hand waving in his face. “Are you all right?”

“Never better.”

Dedue simply turns back to the plants, shaking his head. “You keep on surprising me.”

That certainly made two of them, but he’s played this game multiple times. He knows he won’t get answers until he gives a little himself. He leans closer in to the other man. “Really now? Do I keep unruffled Dedue on his toes?” He gets on his to whisper in his ear. “Maybe I need to try harder.”

Dedue drops the hose, where it lands just at the right angle to bounce off and hit Sylvain. Completely not expecting it, Sylvain blinks before he’s on the ground, soaking wet. Whether or not this was truly an accident, only the ever-hallowed goddess would.

Sylvain can’t help but laugh himself, all the same.

“Are…you all right?” Dedue ends up asking again. He does look concerned, so maybe it was at least partly an accident.

“Absolutely fine.” And he means that. If it was most others who witnessed it, he’d probably feel more embarrassed, even if he wouldn’t let it show. But it feels perfectly natural to smile in the face of his current state, especially because Dedue has already grabbed a towel and set to rubbing down his hair.

He may have grown up in a noble household but now he _really_ feels spoiled.

“You look much different with your hair completely down,” Dedue murmurs once he deems his drying job satisfactory and removes the towel.

Even as Dedue runs his fingers through his hair to smooth over the frizz, Sylvain talks through his surprise. “See, when I first saw your eyes, Dedue, I just knew. I’m so glad you seem to be falling for me back already.”

Now Dedue does that rare (for him) childish gesture of rolling his eyes. “I should say it’s the opposite, considering you fell because of me just now.” 

“Not many have been able to manage that. You’re a man after my own heart, really!”

Dedue continues his task, unbothered. “You must have said this to many others already.”

Sylvain honestly doesn’t remember. Nor does he really care, when Dedue’s fingers feel so nice. “That was then, this is now. Now I’m saying it to you and only you.”

For now, at least. He doesn’t imagine this will last that long, knowing his track record and not knowing what exactly Dedue will tolerate yet. Sylvain supposes he’s always been good at testing limits.

This is when Dedue’s fingers pause near his scalp, as if considering. With a parting pat to his head, Dedue first reaches for the nearest flower before he stands up, holding it out to Sylvain.

Before Sylvain can even raise an eyebrow, Dedue answers him. “Daffodils represent new beginnings. Let us take care of each other through this.”

It’s such a formal way to begin a relationship, and nothing like Sylvain’s ever experienced, but it’s also so very Dedue.

He takes the hand so kindly offering the flower into his own, squeezing gently the way his heart does with this gesture.

“To us, then.”

* * *

They try to act as they normally do. That had been what caught Dimitri’s attention in the first place, after all. 

In the back of his mind, he wonders if Dimitri was the first to notice, or if it was actually Claude who offhandedly made a comment and Dimitri ran with it. It seemed like the very thing they would both do: Claude being the brains behind an operation while keeping his distance and Dimitri plunging headfirst into the matter. An odd couple, to say the least.

Maybe he could say the same for him and Dedue. A few days ago, Sylvain wouldn’t have imagined he’d be in a relationship with him, let alone in circumstances like this. He may function on half thought, half self-destructive impulse, but this is new for even him. The smallest of interactions had started this, so how could it affect him this much?

He ends up analyzing further interactions with Dedue and his resulting feelings with a lot more scrutiny.

There could be many other reasons why something bubbled within him when he was around Dedue, especially since their last meeting. Maybe he ate something weird from the dining hall (doubtful since even Annette seemed to be getting better on kitchen duty with Dedue’s help). Maybe Dedue had done something special to his hair and eyes as his own way of committing to this set-up. That was also doubtful: he’d spoken to Mercedes and while she says she doesn’t pay attention, he knows she and Dedue are close enough that she’d notice him change anything.

Sometimes Sylvain wishes he had someone he could use like that too. Someone to provide an outside view of how he’s acting. But baring himself like that feels a little like losing, when he got himself into this in the first place.

He can’t blame it all on Dedue, even when it’s always around Dedue that he feels warmer. It’s not even just in the kitchen or out on the fields, either. He gets it when they’re both in the library and he lets his eyes wander enough to see how hard Dedue works, how he pores over different weapons and takes extra time to study animal habits in case he wanted to broaden his horizons.

He gets it when Dedue prays aloud to his plants, low enough for most to ignore it. When Sylvain questioned him about it, he had only divulged that they were prayers his mother taught him and his sister. His voice had a mournful note to it, and Sylvain did not ask any further.

He gets it when he leans his head on Dedue’s shoulder to play their façade up in public and feels him straighten to be a better support. He knows he’ll get it when one day—he hopes in the back of his mind, at least—Dedue will relax enough around him to do the same. Sylvain will be ready to return the favor.

He _really_ gets it when they’re eating at the dining hall together and Dedue suddenly presents him with a handkerchief, clearly handmade. He’d done so by first wiping Sylvain’s face with it.

When Dedue seemed to realize what’s occurred, he hands over the handkerchief but looks away, the cheek still facing him pink. “You had some soup on your face.”

He says it like holding this handkerchief is only a casual coincidence, but Sylvain knows better when he actually examines the cloth. The initials SJG are in black, outlined by the petals of a marigold.

He knew Dedue’s hands were strong enough to handle any axe with ease, dig out any weed. But he sees they’re also capable of making this ornate pattern that is so well put together Sylvain almost hesitates to accept the cloth that somehow holds it. It wouldn’t look good scrunched up in the corner of his pocket or room like previous gifts he’d received. Even if those were obviously store-bought and decidedly less personal. And not from Dedue.

He takes the handkerchief almost in a trance, being sure to lean up and kiss Dedue’s cheek for his troubles because they’re still in the dining hall, and because two certain house leaders are a few tables away. Out of the corner of his eye he notices Dimitri pulling a grain from Claude’s face with the softest possible smile. It’s only a shame Claude’s expression is faced away from Sylvain.

Later that night, he toys with the handkerchief without really thinking about it. If he looks from a certain angle, the cloth shimmers pale blue.

Sylvain had always enjoyed fine art. Classical paintings were his favorites and could weave discussion about many of them, especially how beautifully the women were drawn, but even they pale to this simple gesture.

Maybe it isn’t that simple, though. Maybe it is a little like him and Dedue where they’re weaved together more complicatedly than meets the eye. (He’s really overthinking this, but that’s what some tend to do with art anyway. What other fun can he have if he doesn’t try to guess at the artist’s intentions?)

It’s ironic: he usually stops at that level with people but not so much with inanimate objects. At least with them they won’t pretend to get on his good side for their own agenda. It doesn’t end with anyone lashing out if Sylvain decides to pry for his own whims, to see how much he and the other person can tolerate.

But for this action from Dedue…it feels too intimate to try and dig deep into, see if something ugly lingers under folded cloth or in Dedue’s steady gaze.

Dedue is simply _like that,_ Sylvain realizes cautiously, always doing his best for everyone besides himself. He should have known that nearly first and foremost, considering it was for _him_ Dedue went and tried to dispel rumors for, all because he didn’t play into the negative propaganda surrounding Duscur. The moment Dedue confessed that to him must have been where that fuzzy feeling truly began, barely preceding the first time Dedue smiled in his direction. 

Maybe it was just the feeling one gets immediately upon starting romance with someone else, a facsimile of that giddy feeling of having one’s feelings confirmed and returned. Didn’t newlyweds have that a lot?

They aren’t married, and he has no idea just yet just what’s “confirmed” of Dedue’s feelings for him, but…he may be glancing into his own.

Marriage, huh. Right then, Sylvain certainly the thought of someone saying “Sir Molinaro” and both of them turning their heads in response. Just for fun, really. Surely it’s just a side effect of this fake relationship? He’s just really, _incredibly_ into this one particularly. And that alone makes it more important than most, not even for his sake.

It’s not as if Sylvain was new to faking feelings, but that had never led to anything long-lasting or even the slightest bit successful; he and Dedue reached a mutual agreement to this for Dimitri’s sake, and with how for all the time Dedue’s spent helping him cook, not fucking this up would be the _least_ he could do.

The supplies strewn across the counter judge him in his thoughts. Maybe his thoughts as well.

He really has learned a lot from being with Dedue, Sylvain realizes. Enough to realize he was missing a crucial ingredient from the mix.

“Honey…”

“Yes, dear?”

Oh. 

Sylvain was usually the one delivering the sweet liners, but generally he could take what was dished back to him. Still, it was _entirely something else_ to hear something like that from Dedue, who seemed to throw his whole heart into everything while not acting like it at all. It’s all Sylvain can do to speak above the loud pounding of his own heart—and really, what is he, an amateur all over again? He can’t let that stand.

“I…think we’re missing some honey for this treat. But I won’t say no to a little sugar myself, sweetheart,” he finishes with a wink.

It hits Dedue just as quickly, and Sylvain almost regrets that the transition from confusion to realization is so quick. Dedue shifts his eyes away, covering his mouth in embarrassment. Still, the red that blooms on his face—like a _rose_ , his ever-cheesy mind supplies, though he really needs to think of something better—is slower to come and go. Sylvain takes a moment to just savor the sweetness of this sight alone.

From this happy, apparently instinctive accident, he simply makes a note to himself for the future as he sees the other man’s shoulders shake: Dedue likes pet names.

* * *

“So, you and Dedue?”

Ah, Sylvain thinks to himself. It’s easy to see how Dimitri fell for the Golden Deer leader. Claude’s visage was indeed striking, from his easy grin and bright eyes that windowed secrets. One simply wanted to know more at a single glance, curiosity sparked by Claude’s own. And Dimitri was nothing if not one of the most stubbornly serious people in the academy: from the amount of times he’d been seen chiding Claude for his tricks, he must have felt it necessary to observe Claude more closely to keep his guard up. As a fellow house leader, he’d claimed in the beginning. 

He wonders if Dimitri himself even realizes that his initial stony gaze now flows with something softer, as if he carries the sea in his eyes and wants to take Claude along with the waves.

But he’s digressing. Sylvain only smirks in response. “I don’t kiss and tell. I thought you would have known that by now.”

Claude takes a millisecond to blink, before his eyes light up at the non-answer. “You can always just tell,” he says, but he seems to back off. “I’m only asking because Annette mentioned it at choir practice. She said she felt bad Dedue had to help her with cooking when he could be spending time with, not His Princeliness, but _you_ specifically.”

 _That’s also because the prince ends up spending a lot of his time with_ you, he responds in his head. All Sylvain actually does, though, is place his hand on his heart dramatically. “Ah, dear sweet Annette. Always trying to look out for everyone.”

Claude laughs. “I may not be one for gossip, despite being in the center of it with you and Dedue, but I _had_ to confirm since it came from her.”

“Well…” Sylvain can’t help but smirk. Claude’s as smart as a whip, no need to underestimate him and make things too easy. “What’s your deduction?”

He would have liked to say he’s prepared for Claude’s gaze on him, through him _, in_ him. Sylvain wouldn’t be surprised if Claude pinpointed the setup for their relationship with his examination. Predicted it even, if Sylvain’s suspicion that it had been Claude’s observation that sparked Dimitri’s was true.

“You’re both pretty hard to read,” Claude begins. It’s not entirely clear whether or not that’s a compliment. “But it makes for an interesting duo, if you ask me. Just don’t leave him alone.”

By the time Sylvain realized he’d spoken in a heavier tone by his last words, it’s too late to see his expression. Claude is already striding away, his curiosity seemingly sated.

What the hell. He can throw out a line himself and test the waters. “Same to you and His Highness.”

Sylvain takes some satisfaction in the way Claude pauses mid-step before he continues on.

It’s a draw.

* * *

Dedue was to meet him in the knight’s hall. He isn’t late, Sylvain is just early after spars in the training hall wrapped up for the day, miraculously dry. The rain hadn’t started until just a few minutes ago. He figures Dedue might just be on his way from covering what needs to be protected from rain, if he’s not already there with His Highness. And speaking of the prince…

Just as he’s about to enter, he finds Dimitri about to step headfirst into the downpour. “Your Highness? A rendezvous in the rain seems unlike you. What might be the occasion?”

“Claude…” Dimitri bites his lip, the concern in his voice clear. “I saw him running outside. Hilda said one of the wyverns fled from the stable when the thunder sounded and Claude went after it. She’s worried sick, but some of the horses ran away too. She and Leonie went to help Marianne get them back…only after I told them I would look for Claude. If Dedue asks, that’s where I’ll be.” The look in Dimitri’s eye makes it clear to anyone that he isn’t about to be stopped.

Fortunately, Sylvain has just the thing. He walks over to a bookshelf and takes out the black umbrella he’d stashed there days back in the event he needed it. Some knight lady could always need one on her way out, and he could always offer to hold it up for her, after all. But he tosses it to Dimitri without any finesse.

“Here you are. Treat her gently, won’t you?” _Or don’t, because I guess I don’t need use for it right now if I’m meeting Dedue and we were just going to stay here until the storm passed._ How odd he was actually considering someone else’s time seriously for once.

Dimitri simply takes the umbrella and runs.

“At least use it, Your Highness.” Sylvain can’t help but laugh. Any good humor of his is short-lived, though, when he sees another figure barrel out in the rain after Dimitri.

Dedue.

It shouldn’t be any surprise, since Dedue makes it all too clear he dislikes anything that would bring harm to the prince. And bringing harm to the prince who could lift horses with one hand is hard enough. With Dedue in the mix? There’s nothing to worry about, his brain tells him.

His legs move on their own volition. He doesn’t know how long he runs, but a call stops him.

“You. Gautier.” Someone referring to him by his last name and focusing on his crest first. Hardly ever a good sign. “Do you remember the name ‘Giselle’?”

One man faces him, though Sylvain gets the feeling he’s not alone. Still he plasters on a smile for the student approaching him, meeting his glare dead-on.

“Ah, her? Nice lady, that one…” He has no memory of who that is.

“Liar!” the other student hisses. “You…you stole her and threw her away! You’re obviously doing the same thing with that…that _Duscur_ man, what other reason could you even have?“

“He happens to be a very sweet Duscur man, I’ll have you know. And not that Duscur had anything to do what happened to our king, but I just like Dedue.” A lot, he doesn’t add.

“Enough, you— _philanderer_!”

Sylvain knows enough not say anything else to this type. Not now, when anything could set this guy off, and when he really needs to be sure Dedue isn’t putting himself in peril for someone else’s sake in this storm.

The student isn’t satisfied with his silence, of course. He’s shorter, but he puffs up his chest to get in close to Sylvain’s nose. He smells too much of perfume, even in this rain.

“You’re faking it to get something out of him, I just know it. What’s wrong? Are you staying quiet because I’m right? Do you just pity him for being from Duscur and he’s an easy lay for it when you say all the right things and play your cards perfectly?”

He’s losing his patience. He usually has a better control of his temper around strangers, but Sylvain is wet, worried, and way too ready to get away from this. His voice comes out quieter and more serious than most are used to. “Look, if I wanted to hear someone’s awful attempts at hiding their envy for the good I have, I’d ask my brother. But he’s dead, and on my wonderful boyfriend’s birthday, no less. So if you keep me from trying to see him…”

“Th—threatening me, are you? Well, I’ll teach _you_ something.”

Sylvain doesn’t remember much else after that, but he smells familiar spice and feels a weight on his back, anchoring him to a moving body.

“There you are. You must be tired. Running in the rain _and_ running through my mind all day.”

“You know dry lines don’t suit this kind of weather, Sylvain. I may drop you yet,” Dedue huffs, though not without any humor.

“I’ll cherish the time I spend in your arms, then.” He’s not _completely_ sarcastic about that, at least. “But to what do I owe this honor to? I thought you were going after His Highness.”

“He is spoken for,” Dedue says, relief clear in his voice. 

Nearby Dedue, Sylvain sees what he’s talking about when he glances to the side.

Claude cradles the shockingly white wyvern, stroking it on occasion. Dimitri is soaking wet, because of course he is, but he still holds the umbrella over them both with a solemn sense of duty. That aura is temporarily broken when he notices Sylvain’s glance and gives him a thumbs-up.

The two house leaders walk as if they’re in their own world. If their shoulders touch and they look at each other and then away with smiles too big to hide, it’s just a little of Sylvain’s business. He can’t help but feel warm himself even while there’s rainwater still coming down his face.

* * *

Dedue sets him down carefully in his room before going to fetch towels. Sylvain takes off his blazer while he observes. It’s an easy place to make one feel at home, honestly. It’s neat, but still clearly showing signs that someone lived here: there are recipe books one wouldn’t find in their academy’s library, a biscuit tin with some thread hanging about, items that Sylvain isn’t familiar with himself but figures may be charms of some sort.

It doesn’t take long for Dedue to return, without his own outerwear, but by the time he does, Sylvain has made his choice. He’s dabbed at his face and arms with his handkerchief as carefully but thoroughly as he can in the meantime.

“Here, sit down.” Before Dedue can protest, he lifts a corner of the handkerchief to his mouth. “I think after carrying me all the way here in that storm you deserve this first. I’m pretty much dry now.”

Still Dedue tries to protest. All right, so Sylvain obviously not telling the truth about his physical state, he’s still soaked, but his sentiment is true. For once. Dedue probably senses that, so he sits down without further argument and allows Sylvain to both untie and towel dry his hair.

“…Is it a good idea, for someone like me to be with you?”

Sylvain’s hands at the sudden question, towel still in place. “Has anyone told you otherwise?” Then it clicks. “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

“I returned for a short time before one of that student’s henchmen struck you, so…bits and pieces. It was raining, after all.” 

“Dedue.”

“You were the one to propose this,” is the response, almost a whisper. I know the point of it was to be seen by His Highness and show him it was all right to pursue his own relationship, but that requires you to be seen with a man of Duscur in public at times. I would understand, if you wanted to end this arrangement. I may have gotten ahead of myself, not realizing this sooner. Sylvain?”

He had lifted the towel, pressed a kiss to Dedue’s neck, felt the shiver that ran through him. All on instinct. It’s like he has so many possible thoughts about Dedue it wouldn’t just do to speak it out into the world in something as trite as words. And doesn’t that ring familiar.

He can’t quite put what he feels towards Dedue in words yet, but he certainly knows what he wants in this moment.

“You’re right; I started this hoping Dimitri and others would see what we could become. No one’s here now except for us, Dedue. But I’d still like you to stay with me,” Sylvain murmurs. “If _you’d_ like.” There shouldn’t be forced feelings on either side. If Dedue wants to let go, he’ll acquiesce. So Sylvain _doesn’t_ sweep him in his arms, hoping his voice alone can convince him.

“Except I seem to cause you trouble, dragging your name down with mine. You’re not supposed to be one trying to protect me,” Dedue says, face twisted in shame. “That’s my job.”

“Hey, you’re always trying to protect all of us, save a little room there.” Sylvain caves almost immediately and wraps his arms around Dedue’s shoulders. “You already do so much for Dimitri. And more recently for me. Let me at least try for you.”

If Dimitri was the ocean that held the Blue Lions together, however loosely, Sylvain wants to be Dedue’s rock within it. It would take time when he himself wasn’t always stable and trying to bob his head over the waves nobility and his own issues tried to sweep him under, but that’s the future goal.

At the very least, he can be Dedue’s big spoon right now.

“I cannot let anyone hurt themselves for me again. Not His Highness, not you, not…”

“Caring for me even though it’s my fault for dragging you into my matters at all? What an honor.” Sylvain takes the opportunity to lay his head on Dedue’s shoulder. “No one’s hurt here, just wet and wanting warmth. Specifically, your warmth.”

He returns to his task of batting down Dedue’s hair. When he steals a glance at Dedue again, the sight of his hair falling in waves about his face should be enough to take his breath away.

Yet his mouth moves still, unbidden. “You look really different with your hair down.” Where were his smooth words when he needed them the most? Washed away in the rain, probably.

Dedue’s sigh makes some of his hair float up for a second, and it’s actually the cutest thing Sylvain’s seen. “It gets in the way.”

“But it’s cute,” Sylvain hums, resisting the urge to stroke through the locks with his hands, towel be damned. He’d ask if he could another day, because he sees the tiny flush from Dedue and considers it victory enough.

They fall into a comfortable silence until Dedue breaks the silence this time.

“…It might have been nostalgia acting up just now,” he shares. “When His Highness set out after Claude, it was like when my younger sister would wander outside whenever she was excited. All I could think about was finding him again, on my own. The Blue Lion House is the home he had stretched his hand out and given me. It would only be right to bring him back, but I didn’t expect you to follow me.”

“Ha, well, someone has to bring you back home, too. This is your place now.”

Dedue gave a sad sort of laugh. “I think my mothers would have liked you, for how accepting you are. Maybe too accepting, because they’d also lecture you about flirting habits and one of them would conveniently have a newly forged axe by her side. My sister in turn would beg you for study tips. Many times, I do get reminded of them even now and miss them. It’s true I’ve slowly gotten used to life here, but…Forgive me. I didn’t mean to ramble on about the past.”

“Well,” Sylvain concedes. “It might not be something I’ll completely understand.” Not when _his_ family members treated him the way they had, to the point where he wouldn’t completely feel their loss. They’re the reason he puts himself at a distance from people usually, but he comes closer now. “But that doesn’t mean you have to go through all you do alone. You _won’t_ be alone again if I have anything to say about it.”

And that’s what relationships are about, aren’t they? Even if they had remained as friends he would have done the same because it’s what Dedue deserves. But now he isn’t just Dedue’s friend who’s a boy, he’s his _boyfriend_ and he has to live up to that fully, even away from prying eyes and loose mouths. 

There was no way they could have lasted like this if this relationship was truly built on fake emotions to begin with. It would have fizzled out into awkwardness much earlier. It still has the potential to, he won’t deny that. But any steps they take from this point onwards are ones he wants to take _with_ Dedue, and not from any forcing on anyone’s part.

“You know Dedue, I think there’s something else that drew us to each other. Besides being the subject of less-than-good rumors, I mean.”

The resulting silence tells him to go on.

“I think we both tend to hold a lot in. Feel like it’s best to keep to ourselves in the end. Of course, we’re still really different on the surface and how we approach others. Maybe that’s why even Claude says we’re hard to read, and why people want to gossip about our “mystery”. They don’t understand, and want to keep pitting people against each other for their own purpose. But I think all this just made me feel closer to you, and not just physically. We’re a package deal now, whether you like it or not.” A pause. “Well. If you actually don’t like it, just be sure to let me know and we can deal with that.”

Dedue’s huff is the child of both a laugh and a sigh. Progress. 

“No, I…don’t dislike what we have right now. I may not be the best at showing it, but I have enjoyed our time, Sylvain. I enjoy being with you. For all you pretend there’s no redemption for you, you’re much kinder than I expected. From the moment I first spoke with you, all the way until now. You let me be a little more of myself again. I would like to keep being with you, if you feel the same.”

“Well,” Sylvain has to try again, knowing he’s blushing. ‘Well. Good! I do!”

The noise Dedue responds with is closer to a laugh this time. He leans his head back so it lays on Sylvain’s shoulder, and Sylvain immediately straightens to support him more.

They stay like that for who knows how long. Sylvain doesn’t. Nor does he care.

“Hey,” His tongue is finally untied from that onslaught, and Sylvain leans in until they’re cheek to cheek. “Tell me more about the sewing techniques you learned in Duscur. That handkerchief is something that’s definitely got me through rainy days.”

And Dedue does. He talks of all his non-blacksmith mother taught him as if a weight’s been lifted off of him, relaxing more into Sylvain’s hold along the way.

Of course, Sylvain gives him his full attention. But he also hopes Dedue can feel his smile against him.

* * *

They’re back at the greenhouse as per usual, though they remain outside under the pretense of examining the blooms.

Their—or at the very least Sylvain’s—real intention is to observe His Highness and Claude at the fishing pond. He does meet Dedue’s knowing gaze out of the corner of his eye, though, and winks.

Dedue just shakes his head with a smile. Sylvain knows only one of his eyes is actually on the plants, the other lingering on the pair nearby.

Scratch that, it’s a trio. The white wyvern from earlier perches on Claude’s shoulder, seemingly unwilling to part from him at all. But even that fearsome (if still tiny) beast doesn’t deter Dimitri from running his fingers through Claude’s hair just to pluck a leaf out of it, immediately holding it next to Claude’s head to compare the color to his eyes.

The action surprises Sylvain and Claude both: Dimitri doesn’t seem to notice the tinge of red in Claude’s cheeks even when he’s right there, and Sylvain wonders what other hints may have flown over the prince’s head until now.

Seeing the ever-teasing and secretive leader Claude _flustered_ is certainly a rare treat for anyone else. But if this sight was normal for Dimitri, maybe he didn’t even need help to begin with. 

If anything, perhaps those two had ended up helping him and Dedue more instead. But as he takes Dedue’s hand and squeezes, he can’t seem to mind at all, especially when Dedue returns the squeeze. 

The fish master with his unfortunate timing had just turned to offer the two a fishing rod considering they had been at the pond for a while. But at the sight, he dropped the rod, immediately looking away.

The sound seems to jolt Dimitri out of whatever zone he was in, pulling away and wearing a look Sylvain knew well. His “about to explode with apology” face. But Claude cups his face with both hands. It almost seems as if he’ll kiss Dimitri back when he leans in, but the only thing his mouth moves for is words Sylvain is too far away to hear. Whatever they are, though, they’re enough for Dimitri to cup his chin back and bring their lips together again.Sylvain lets out a low whistle. “Did you train him to be that bold, sweetheart?”

Dedue coughs, his own face pink. Sylvain knows it’s more because of the pet name than what they had just witnessed. “I think he was more than likely learning that from you…love.”

Sylvain rubs the back of his head, unable to stop his grin at Dedue’s own name for him. “I’d agree, but we haven’t even gotten to that stage ourselves! To think our seemingly regal and innocent Highness had this side to him and be able to fluster Claude himself! But we won’t lose to them, right?”

Dedue just kisses him right there. Pecks him, really, but it’s enough to make Sylvain’s heart bypass speeding up and just float.

“No,” Dedue says, punctuating the word with another peck. He’s even redder up close, and seems to blush brighter with each press of their lips. “I intend to make up for lost time.”

Another peck, yet another to set a flourish on him. It feels like something blooms each time their mouths meet, to the point Sylvain wishes his resulting sigh could just keep intertwining them both until they truly needed breath.

Even when their lips break away, Sylvain moves to press his forehead to Dedue’s, tightly wrapping his arms around his waist and leading Dedue scrambling to grasp at his shoulders at the unexpected embrace. Whether he’s acting as Dedue’s support or Dedue’s acting as his, it matters not. “Now you’re the one who keeps surprising _me_.”

“Is that so?” Dedue’s smile turns the most self-satisfied Sylvain’s ever seen it, doing _something_ to him. “Perhaps I need to try harder. Keep you on your t—”

Sylvain gets right up on his toes to kiss him again, and again, clinging to this privilege of happiness with the warm hands that had given it to him.


End file.
